


T'is the Season

by Quillaninc



Series: Evolving Through Seasons [1]
Category: Voltron: Lion Voltron
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-26
Updated: 2010-07-26
Packaged: 2017-10-10 19:43:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/103577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quillaninc/pseuds/Quillaninc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Why-" Lotor drawled, sceptical "-would <i>you</i> have a gift for <i>me</i>?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	T'is the Season

**Author's Note:**

> Past fluffy Christmas fic.

"So, would you mind telling me what the hell this is about?" Lotor asked contemptuously, hand tense and ready on the hilt of his sword should he need it.

He felt brutally cheated. The note inviting him here was so carefully worded, he'd lain awake for hours until the merest hope that it could be from the Princess had grown to such grandiose proportions that he'd been unable to resist. Stepping into this secluded rose garden on Arus, his expansive fantasies were dashed to the soil beneath his boots; to begin with, the one he was greeted by was most certainly not female.

Lance looked over his shoulder at Lotor and smiled, an oddly welcoming sort of expression given Lotor's constant enmity towards the Voltron Force. "I've got a gift for you," he stated cryptically.

Lotor blinked. "A gift?" he said dryly.

Smiling broadly, Lance turned neatly on his heel and approached him slowly, his hands balled comfortably in the pockets of his jacket as he had done thousands of times before. "Yes, a gift."

'Why-" sceptical, Lotor drawled, "-would you have a gift for me?"

Lance just shrugged, that annoying little smile still playing on his lips. "It's the custom of the season," was all he said.

"The ... custom. Ri-ght." The prince tightened his grip on his sword; it was quite obvious to him that this pilot was losing his, on his sanity.

"I'm serious!" Lance assured him. "Right along with the custom of 'good will to all men', 'peace to all creation', and 'forgive thine enemy'. T'is the season to make amends, to build bridges, to fix old friendships and start new ones... No, I'm not making this up," he grinned at Lotor's incredulous and highly disparaging expression.

"Then ... your customs are insane!" Lotor sneered. This entire conversation was starting to unnerve him, but not as much as the friendly, smiling expression in his enemy's demeanour.

Lance mock-pouted a little, like he was slightly disappointed in Lotor, and shook his head in a sage like manner. "Do me a favour ... close your eyes for me."

"What?!" Lotor reeled a step back, the fear of such an obvious trap trickling down his spine. "You really are mad, if you think-"

"Lotor," Lance cut him off with a murmur as he somehow stepped right past the Prince's guard and into his personal space. "Close .... your eyes." And, with that soft command, he boldly lifted his fingers and gently guided Lotor's eyelids to close.

For a brief moment, Lotor stood there, somehow accepting and yet nervous all the same. He didn't understand what any of this was about, but he felt certain enough in his skills to measure a man to be sure this wasn't a trap after all. What it was, however...

Then firm, careful lips brushed his own, a gentle yet insistent hand guiding his head down further to deepen the kiss just an acceptable level beyond chaste, and it was like his world had found a completely new axis and was turning merrily while he grappled with what it all could mean, standing here in Arus' moonlight like this.

A tiny moan escaped his throat as those lips slowly pulled away, drawing him forwards without really knowing that he was seeking more. A small box was pressed into the cupped palms of his hands, nerveless fingers carefully wrapped around them by strong, broad ones, and a gentle kiss was pressed to one cheek. "Merry Christmas, Lotor," he heard whispered softly.

And then, as he blinked his eyes slowly open, still dazed ... he realised he was alone.

Strangely, his fingers trembled slightly as they lifted the lid from the box. Within, on a dark bed of blue velvet, lay a very simple crystal pendant cut in a delicate snowflake pattern - nothing at all fancy or extravagant, and far less expensive than even the smallest bauble he owned.

So, why was his heart pounding like a racehorse, the longer he stood there and looked at it?

~ Owari ~


End file.
